Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. Finger to his lips, Gerald pointed in the direction of the noise. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. " "Ah," said Spurlock; "that kind of a man.
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